


Advanced Cabin Fever and Wilderness Survival Skills: An Introduction

by Palgrave (goldenrod)



Category: Community
Genre: Canadian Shack, Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenrod/pseuds/Palgrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abed has a plan. It involves a shack in Canada. Everyone else is as pleased as you’d expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advanced Cabin Fever and Wilderness Survival Skills: An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I remember stumbling across the 2001 Canadian Shack fic challenge back in the day, thinking it was a really cool idea… and discovering it was full.
> 
> Flashforward a decade, an older me discovers they’ve started it up again… and that it’s also reached 101. Well, phooey to you all, I’m posting it anyway. :-)
> 
> Warnings: Discussions of cannibalism, a character having a rather specific sexual kink and what I'm pretty sure is blasphemy can be found within. Nothing is depicted, or even particularly graphic, but the lapsed Catholic in me isn't entirely happy with that last sentence, so if you're a bit more passionate about these things than I, you might want to skip this one. Also, while we're warning things, this is my first _Community_ fic ever.
> 
> Feedback appreciated, especially if constructive; enjoy!

No one was quite sure why Greendale Community College owned a “highly desirable cabin property you’ll never want to leave!” in Northern Canada of all places, but most of the people who ever visited it -- including six of the seven people currently contained in it --were certain of two things; it was neither desirable, highly or otherwise, and they very much _did_ want to leave.

Of course, those six people were rather confused as to what they were doing there in the first place.

The seventh of them?

He had a plan.

And a Canadian shack.

 

*

 

“Okay, people,” Jeff Winger announced, standing before his study group, “this may be the greatest crisis this study group has ever known. I’m not gonna lie to you; it’s looking tough. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about this study group, it’s that we rise to the challenge, no matter what the challenge is. And we can beat this challenge, if we all work together. If we do what is best for all of us, if we sacrifice whatever is necessary. If we offer ourselves wholly to the group, blood, sweat, flesh and all.”

Everyone present nodded and murmured sounds of assent. It was a classic Winger speech. You could almost hear inspiring music over the top of it, with electric guitars and everything.

“Therefore,” Jeff concluded, “I move that if we’re snowed in and forced to resort to cannibalism, we eat Pierce first.”

Jeff was _not_ coping well with the lack of cellphone coverage. Or the wild animals. Or the whole Canadian-outdoors thing, really.

As one, everyone looked towards Pierce Hawthorne -- who was, not entirely surprisingly, looking rather alarmed and indignant. “Hey!”

“Ew!” Annie Edison wrinkled her nose. “Gross, Jeff. Plus, we’ve been here, like, two hours. It’s _way_ too soon to start even thinking about resorting to cannibalism.”

“And hardly vegetarian-compliant, I might add,” Britta Perry announced, with just enough misplaced self-righteousness to make her seem entirely insufferable. Everyone groaned, and someone threw a wadded up bit of paper at her.

“I’m not sure what my pastor would say about eating Pierce, Jeffrey,” Shirley Bennett demurred.

Jeff felt the need to reassert authority. “Annie, two hours is _never_ too soon to start planning for emergency situations. Britta, it’s the middle of winter, nothing is growing, if you want to starve, be my guest. Shirley, you’re a Christian; you do that whole body-and-blood, bread-and-wine thing. Just think of it as eating an older, more racist and kind of evil Jesus.”

Shirley seemed about to correct Jeff on the finer points of the Eucharist at length when Troy Barnes -- who was for reasons known only to himself and his best friend dressed like a mountie -- raised his hand. “If we’re gonna be _eating_ people,” he said, “then I kind of don’t want to eat Pierce. No offense, but I kind of don’t think he’d be very appetizing. He seems like he’d be, well, mostly gristle and fat.”

If anything, Pierce looked even _more_ indignant at that. “ _Hey_!”

“Fair point,” Jeff replied. He sighed. “You know, I kind of regret directing Chang to the wrong cabin now. We could have eaten _him_.”

“If we have to eat anyone,” Troy continued, “I vote for Annie.” An offended little squeak from the nominated candidate in question followed this.

“We can’t eat Annie,” Jeff pointed out irritably, “she’s the only one who has any kind of survival skills whatsoever.” Annie nodded primly; score _one_ for the Summer School Wilderness Survival Course!

“Okay then,” Troy snapped back, irritated with Jeff talking down to him, “how about Britta?”

“Hey! How come it’s only the girls who are being suggested here?” Britta replied indignantly and rather wounded (she’d thought that she and Troy _had_ something), “If we’re gonna abandon all human morals and decency and start human sacrifices, how come we don’t start with Troy?”

“And I’m wondering why, if we’re suggesting eating the girls, no one has suggested _me_ , yet,” Shirley growled. Not that she _wanted_ to be eaten, of course, but it would be nice to be considered.

Pierce was about to point out that he’d been suggested first and was most _emphatically_ not a girl (and would be willing to show off l’il Mag -- _Not_ -so-l’il Magnum to prove it) when Troy leapt in, annoyed and hurt by Britta’s suggestion -- he’d thought they _had_ something. “Maybe I suggested you so that you’d shut up for once!”

“Oh yeah? Well, maybe I suggested _you_ so that we’d get a break from your attitude!”

“Oh _yeah_? Well, maybe I _also_ suggested you because I’m sick of your self-righteous-yet-sensitive-and-mysteriously-alluring attitude and perfect butt!”

“Oh _yeah_? Well, maybe I _also_ suggested _you_ because I’m sick of your annoying-but-sweet nature and gorgeous washboard abs!”

Britta and Troy glared at each other for a moment. It was, for them, somehow angry yet passionate, charged with both intense hurt and betrayal and yet seering erotic tension, that left them immensely confused and yet deeply turned on. It was a moment that would burn into their memories forever, along with the exact colour of each other’s eyes, and left them with just the faintest thread of hope...

For everyone else, it was just random and weird.

“You guys,” Annie threw up her hands, once more resigned to being the voice of what-should-be-common-sense-but-somehow-with-this-group-of-people-just-isn’t, “we’re getting irrational. We’ve been here for just over two hours, and there’s a huge pile of supplies over there.” She pointed at what was, indeed, a large collection of boxes containing food in the corner next to what could, with immense generosity of spirit, be called a kitchen. “There is absolutely no need for us to even consider eating human flesh. And Jeff, I’m still kind of weirded out that you even mentioned it.”

“Annie’s right,” Shirley agreed. “It looks like those could last us at least a month.”

“Thank you, Shirley,” Jeff said. “Now, as I was saying...”

“They’re mostly canned beans and processed macaroni, but still.”

“ _Thank_ you, Shirley. Anyway...”

“Also, I made brownies.”

“ _Thank you,_ Shirley. Okay, fine. No more talk of cannibalism. For now.” Jeff added to himself. “Which brings me to my second point of discussion. Since we’re here, in this dump in the middle of nowhere, I think it would be very productive and conducive to the harmonic functioning of the group if we were to discuss why, exactly, we have all been made to give up our week and summoned to the middle of nowhere to fix up this dump. And specifically, who exactly is to blame for this situation.”

“I vote we look at Abed,” Annie replied.

As one, everyone turned to glare at Abed Nadir. He didn’t look particularly phased. It may have had something to do with the fact that for reasons known only to himself he, too, was dressed as a mountie.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” he said calmly, “and I’m guessing by what I can more-or-less determine from prior experience that you’re annoyed. But there is a bigger picture at work here, and I urge you all to consider it. Yes, I volunteered you all to the Dean to help fix up the official Greendale Canadian Retreat Centre,” he gestured around their rather dismal surroundings, which could only be considered a ‘retreat’ by a serial killer or someone who had been inspired to live the rural life by _Walden_ but had completely failed to rise to the task, “but like Jeff says, I think we can turn this challenge into an opportunity.

“For this,” Abed concluded, his voice deep and rich with meaning, “is our Canadian shack.”

The other members of the study group looked around their surroundings. It was, indeed, a shack. And they were, as it happened, in Canada. That much at least made sense. It was the ‘our’ part that the others were stuck on.

“Abed,” Jeff asked in what was -- for him -- a civil and pleasant tone. “I know that to you, that might _seem_ like it explains everything, but I still have some questions. Specifically; why do we need a shack? Why do we need a _Canadian_ shack? Why do we need _this_ Canadian shack? And what in God’s name are you talking about?”

Everyone else nodded.

“Simple,” said Abed, “it stems from _Due South_ fandom in the 1990s. When the series ended, the fans devised a number of potential scenarios for the main characters following the conclusion of the narrative, all of which seemed to end up with them living together in a cabin in rural Canada. From this, the premise spread to other fandoms, thus producing a number of fanfics involving the characters either happening upon or retiring to said Canadian shack.”

(“What’s _Due South_?” Annie whispered to Britta and Shirley as Abed delivered his explanation.

(“It was a TV show about a gay mountie, his dog, and the cop he was hooking up with,” Britta replied.

(“It was a wolf,” Shirley responded, “and they weren’t gay. They just solved crimes.”

(“Oh, come _on_ , Shirley. They were _totally_ doing each other.”

(As Britta and Shirley began to bicker quietly about their unexpected shared appreciation for _Due South_ and the homoerotic subtext or lack thereof within, Annie made a quiet mental note to check it out as soon as possible. Not because she secretly had a bit of a fetish for mounties -- which didn’t make sitting opposite from Troy and Abed awkward in the slightest, oh no -- or an even more secret collection of gay mountie porn or anything. Just... because.)

“Okay,” Jeff replied to Abed, pretending not to notice Shirley and Britta’s argument about gay mounties or something, “we’ll pretend that explanation explained _something_ for now. But it still doesn’t explain why I’m giving up my weekend to come to what is, and I think I’m being pretty generous here, a crappy little cabin somewhere in Canada where there is no cellphone coverage, no bathroom, and more furry living things indoors than outdoors. One of which, I’m delighted to report, almost crawled up my leg just now.”

“Well, we’ll need somewhere to hole up after cancellation,” Abed reasoned, “and Greendale happened to have this property listed. The Dean asked us to clean it up for his sister, but I think we could make a go of it here. If we fix it up together, we should make it inhabitable. Our current supplies should last the month, but then we can forage for what we need and go into the nearest town for the rest. With a carefully arranged blanket fortress we should be able to create adequate space for everyone here to live comfortably -- ”

No one looked exceptionally happy with where this explanation seemed to be going.

“Whoa,” Jeff interrupted, holding a hand up. “Cancellation? What are you talkingabout? Are you saying we _live_ here? All of us? _Here_?” He held up his cellphone again. “I draw your attention again to the point about the lack of cellphone coverage.”

“I don’t want to live here!” Troy sounded shocked. “There’s no bathroom. I’m pretty sure that means pooping outdoors. And me and pooping outdoors do _not_ get along.”

“And the cold’s shrinking my genitals,” Pierce added. He scoffed. “They certainly aren’t _always_ that small.” Everyone looked at him with disgust for a moment.

“Abed,” Britta said gently, and only _slightly_ condescendingly, “what do you mean, ‘cancellation’? What’s this all about?”

“I noticed it a while ago,” Abed replied. “The winter break is lasting longer than it should. That means we’ve been put on hiatus. It’s only a short step from there to cancellation. So we need to be prepared. If our stories aren’t going to be continued, then we can live out here in the wild, together.”

Everyone else shifted slightly uncomfortably. There were suddenly a lot of memories of two Christmases ago floating around. This had 'Abed thinks we're all stop motion animated or something again' written all over it.

“Abed,” Jeff said carefully, “the winter break’s lasting longer because the Dean had to shut down the school and suspend classes. Because of the whole grease fire and raccoon infestation thing, remember?”

“That’s the current explanation,” Abed conceded, “and I’m sure there’s been a lot of talk about options, considerations... attendances...” he left this hanging meaningfully, “and so forth. Conclusion; the spectre of cancellation hangs above us. Now, I’m not saying it’s definite. We don’t need to move up here right away. We have time to change things around. This is not the worst timeline. But we need to be prepared for the worst. We need a fallback plan. In short; should we be cancelled, we need a Canadian shack to retreat to at a moment's notice.”

There was a _long_ silence.

“Abed,” Jeff replied, sounding like a man on the verge of a cabin fever breakdown and trying very, _very_ hard to remain calm, “four things. One. For the millionth time, there are no. _Other. Timelines._ Two. We are not a TV show. Our school has been temporarily damaged and forced to close. We are not being ‘cancelled’. Three. Even if that were the case, that does not mean we would have to all move into a shack in the middle of the Canadian woods. Four. This particular shack? Is completely uninhabitable by _one_ person, never mind seven. Your entire plan is insane. As, I am beginning to suspect, are you.”

Abed reached over, and patted Jeff on the shoulder. “I admire your optimism, Jeff,” he said earnestly. “It’s spirit like that which’ll get us six seasons and a movie.”

Jeff looked at him with a mixture of resignation and burning fury.

“But like you said,” Abed continued, “it’s never too early to be prepared.”

Jeff buried his head in his hands, and prayed for cancellation. There was a long, awkward silence.

“Hey Troy, Abed,” Annie asked, when the silence -- and what appeared to be Jeff’s silent weeping -- got too much to tolerate, “you look really cool in those uniforms.”

There was a reluctant murmur of assent from everyone else except Jeff.

“Thanks, Annie,” Troy grinned.

“Will you be keeping them when we get home?” Annie continued, sounding slightly too casual and innocent.

Abed and Troy exchanged glances, slightly puzzled. “Yeah,” Troy shrugged, “I guess so. Why?"

“Oh... no reason.”

 

*

 

Elsewhere, a rather intense (some would say demented -- in fact, _most_ would say demented) Chinese-American man was taking an axe to a cabin door. When Ben Chang made an entrance, he made an _entrance_.

“Heeeeeeeeere’s Chang-y!” he yelled through the rather large ragged hole he’d just chopped into the door of the wooden cabin with an axe.

The Mountie, seated at a table facing the door beside a beautiful white dog-wolf hybrid, stared back at him impassively.

“You’re not the study group!” Chang accused.

“That I am not, I’m afraid,” the Mountie replied. His manners, it had to be said, were impeccable.

“So what’s going on?!”

“Well, at a guess,” the Mountie said thoughtfully, “I’d say someone has anticipated your rather dramatic arrival and directed you to the wrong cabin.”

“Oh, _man_!” Chang whined, throwing the axe to the ground petulantly. “Those guys _suck_!”

He turned to walk away, but tripped on the steps and fell into a stunned heap in the shrubbery, ending up tangled in a bush. Then the Mountie set his dog on him and arrested him for illegally entering the country, vandalism of property and destruction of native fauna.

The Mountie might be polite, but he still had a job to do, darn it.

 

*

 

**Tag**

In a Canadian shack in the worst of all timelines, six people in black clothing sat around from each other. Each of them wore a fake black goatee. Even the women. Even those men who had actually grown a real goatee.

There was a rather awkward silence.

“Well,” Evil Jeff said, sounding resigned, “now what?”

Evil Abed merely chuckled evilly. He was getting quite good at it.

“You know,” Evil Jeff continued, “it’s a pity Pierce isn’t here. We could have eaten him, if necessary.”

Evil Annie made a face. “Ew, Jeff! Gross.”

“What? We’re evil now.”

After a moment, everyone had to agree that he had a point.


End file.
